


Digitos

by DanOfVulcan



Series: The Tucker-Reed Playroom [6]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Dom!Trip, Kink, Leather, M/M, PWP without Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tuckerreed, sub!Malcolm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanOfVulcan/pseuds/DanOfVulcan
Summary: A huge shoutout to my beta,prisdreamsbravely, for her priceless help.





	Digitos

**Author's Note:**

> A huge shoutout to my beta, [prisdreamsbravely](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prisdreamsbravely/profile), for her priceless help.

Malcolm breathed into the sheets–the hot breath unnoticeable against his heated skin.

He took a deep, steadying breath.

No smell.

No scent whatsoever.

The sheets, the mattress, they were absolutely neutral--odorless.

_What?_ Thoughts came broken, erratic, random.

His senses weren’t much better either. He could feel, surprisingly, the delicate pillow covers brushing against his belly; His thighs, his knees–his spreaded legs–against the sheets. For a moment he was certain he was going to leave his body.

_You might as well._ What was that? His thoughts or Trip’s voice?

The next sensation–even to a numbed mind–was unmistakeable: Trip’s lubed finger sliding up and down Malcolm’s ass cleft.

Malcolm shivered–his cock, half-hard and dripping precum, twitched. One moment the two fingers played around his asshole, and next they slipped inside. Goosebumps raced up and down his spine as his pucker gave in to the delicious assault.

Trip leaned forward and whispered, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Mal.” A third finger slipped inside.

Malcolm moaned unashamedly loud as the trio of digits touched his prostate. Instinctively he backed into Trip’s touch, rocking his pelvis slightly. That brought forth a string of precum.

Malcolm, lying as he was, never saw– though he definitely felt–when Trip removed all three fingers and admired his gaping asshole. Muscles twitched – sphincter dilated from dildo and finger play, he moaned as Trip placed a chaste kiss on it.

Malcolm grasped the sheets as three fingers were reinserted.

It wasn’t so much from an orgasmic pleasure.

It felt… _different?_ Somehow his mind supplied the word to him.

A fourth finger soon followed.

Malcolm arched his back, almost immediately brought back to his place his one of Trip’s commanding hands. Now that was almost too much; his body was acting involuntarily, trying to rock his pelvis against Trip’s deft fingers.

“Trip.” Malcolm more babbled than spoke.

“Shhh, darlin’.”

The four fingers fucked the puckered asshole with gusto. Sadly, Malcolm wasn’t treated to the sight of it. His lubed up asshole, gaping, hungry, swallowed up Trip’s fingers whole – Malcolm’s boudoir skills never failed to impress Trip.

“More,” Malcolm begged. He didn’t care he bagged. He turned to look at his husband.

_Trip._ Ever so gorgeous, loving Trip.

The contrast was stunning–the black leather harness went well with blue eyes.

Trip smiled, and complied.

First the distal phalanges.

Malcolm’s asshole was well trained, then. He barely noticed as they entered his gaping hole.

Then, the middle ones. These posed some challenge. Malcolm felt the walls widen, the muscles bite at Trip’s hand, posing resistance.

“Breath,” came the command.

Another steadying breath and Malcolm felt his insides relax.

Sure enough the phalanges fit right through.

“Again,” Malcolm heard Trip.

Malcolm felt, as he took his deep breath, Trip force the proximal phalanges through.

The timing had been perfect. They fit. Snuggly, but they did.

_Thank you,_ Malcolm thought. He adored Trip had taken the time to let him adjust to the fingers. “Thank you,” he said out loud. He never saw Trip’s smile of pride, love, and admiration.

He did feel, however, as Trip poured more lube on his asshole. “Fuck me,” he heard himself say.

It was barely a couple of seconds before Trip used his fingers to fuck him.

Trip admired his husband squirming under his control. His blue eyes gleamed with mischief, with lust, with love.

_He deserves this,_ he thought as he gently introduced the thumb into the play.

Sure enough Malcolm half-jumped from where he had been.

“Steady, darlin’,” Trip said as he placed a hand on Malcolm’s lumbar.

Malcolm babbled something Trip couldn’t make out.

Trip kept on fucking him. He noticed precum pooled around Malcolm’s cock, soaking the sheets, undoubtedly soaking the mattress as well.

_Gonna try this,_ Trip decided as he felt the asshole responsive.

Malcolm sensed the fingers, now all five of them, go deeper. He felt the knuckles pressing harder against his walls. Suddenly, and quite painfully, the major knuckles tried forcing their way.

“Three!” Malcolm shouted out loud. He felt Trip immediately–though very carefully–pull his fingers from his insides. Malcolm stood still. The stinging was subsiding, but he felt his asshole very sensitive. Lost in the moment–half frozen from scare–he didn’t see Trip inspecting him carefully for any signs of laceration or tearing; He did hear Trip breath out loudly. He didn’t see, however, the smile of relief in his husband’s face when he saw there was nothing wrong.

Malcolm was still stunned.

It had stung; it had been sudden. But it was gone now.

All there was left was Trip.

Malcolm thanked him for being so careful, as he was pulled back to an embrace. Trip cradled Malcolm in his arms–one hand on his abs and the other on his chest–gently holding the man between his legs as they kneeled  in bed.

“Im sorry, darlin’... I never meant to--”

“No need to apologize, Love,” Malcolm reassured him. “None is to blame.” He kissed Trip.

Trip kissed his lips back fervently, yet delicately, as they were a sacred relic.

“It’s a sign we need to work a bit more before taking this leap,” Malcolm decided. “The journey is part of the fun, after all.”


End file.
